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“This was important for our pack,” I said.

Pan stared out the window where dark clouds had rolled over the chilled stars. The bedroom was too hot, and I tugged at my collar.

“Everything is important to you, except me,” he muttered.

I gaped as pain carved a hole in my stomach. How could he say that? When I put everything I cared about on the line for my love of him. My reputation, my legacy. It all suffered, and he didn’t care about showing me the same respect.

“I know you went to The Barracks. Why?” I asked gruffly.

He described how his cravings felt. Like a dark monster squatted on his chest, demanding more. There was something twisted inside that made him so selfish. Because what else could I call it? Pan didn’t care how his actions affected me or the pack.He traipsed off into hovels with his shady friends and neglected the pack that cared about his well-being. Not just him getting drunk and high.

“I didn’t go there on purpose. I met up with CJ.”

“Of course.”

My lips curled. He knew how I felt about his friend CJ. He brought out the worst in Pan. Together, they indulged their vices to the detriment of everyone around them.

Pan looked at the ceiling. “We had dinner at Mad Hatter downtown, met up with some more friends at Stoney. After that, we ended up at a hole in the wall at The Barracks. Only a few drinks, nothing else.” He tossed his hands up as I shot him a disbelieving look. “Maybe I drank too much.”

Bile scorched my throat at the lackadaisical shrug of his shoulders, and the challenge that lingered in his dark gaze. My ribs were being pried apart, and I bled inside at the easy way Pan discarded his promises.

“You said you wouldn’t…” I whispered, and my bedroom blurred.

Pan shook his head. “No, I said I would give up spirits, and I didn’t touch a drop last night. I only drank beer.”

“What about the shots tonight?” I snapped before I bit the side of my mouth. Tasted iron and let it collar me like a shackle. My pulse throbbed hot and hard like a drumbeat, and I knew nothing I said would make a difference.

Pan tossed his hands up. “I lost my temper. You should have tossed her out the minute she walked in late.”

“Like you?” My shout tore up my throat. “You didn’t give a fuck about keeping your promises, or respecting your pack. Do you even care at all? Or is this just you making sure I’m pleased so you can go back to doing whatever you want?”

Pan flinched and slid off the bed, onto his knees. My nostrils flared as his bubblegum scent turned thick.

He was an alpha, and we didn’t take to being coddled. But there was something about Pan that called for it. He wanted to be put on his knees until he remembered he wasn’t supposed to like it.

“So tell me off, daddy.” Pan slumped in feigned contrition.

We were opposites who attracted chaos.

I was disciplined, predictable, and dedicated to my work. My name drove me to be better, to reach higher.

Pan was creative, spontaneous, and stirred up magic in everyone around him. Pan was like holding onto a flame. You couldn’t believe the beauty, the magic, until it burned through your skin and scarred. Because every relationship needed balance and Pan refused to compromise. The glittery lights of nightclubs always prevailed over promises. Even when I begged him to get help, he always slunk in afterward with insincere apologies.

“Strip,” I barked, and Pan’s fingers shook in their rush to comply.

An alpha’s bark didn’t work on another alpha. Designed for omegas and their nature, which craved protection and control.

How much easier would it be if Pan did as he was told?

He begged me for this. For me to put him on his knees. And afterward, when the lust faded, he punished me for it.

Pan flung his discarded clothes and waited, eyes gleaming with silky desire. Pan slept little, subsisted on black coffee and whatever leftovers were in the fridge. Chasing something elusive. It showed in his lean body, remarkably well-toned despite his lifestyle. His skin was smattered with a tapestry of tattoos, including a bay leaf on his hip. That was for me.

“What do you want me to do?” he breathed, fisting his long, lean cock. Prominent veins bulged on the curved length. He opened his mouth, about to speak again, when I slashed the air.

“Quiet. Bad pups don’t get to speak.” I unzipped my slacks. “They choke on their daddy’s cock.”

I folded them in half and draped them over a wooden hanger, and added my jacket. It was a wool and cashmere blend, with a navy-blue silk lining the inside. I wasn’t about to throw thousands of dollars on the floor to wrinkle.